


Get a Kick Outta You

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergent, Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Post Hogwarts, Ridiculousness, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Draco's pregnant and the baby's started kicking.





	Get a Kick Outta You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _The first time Draco feels the baby's movements he gets so panicked/nervous/excited that he goes to the Aurors' office to talk to Harry._
> 
> Really pleased with how this turned out, even if I did get 3500 into something else and had to scrap it all and start over! Maybe one day I'll take those scraps and turn 'em into something else, but for now, I hope you all enjoy this! 
> 
> Big thanks to H for beta'ing <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Draco’s lounging in front of the fireplace—charmed to shoot out cold air, since Draco’s been overheating ever since he entered his second trimester—when he first feels it. His hand is on his stomach, as it always seems to be these days, and at first, he thinks he imagines it. _There’s no way,_ he thinks to himself as he presses his hand closer to his stomach. _It’s too early_ , he tells himself, too scared to get his hopes up. He waits it out, toes curled tensely in the carpet and his heart hammering in his chest.

Nothing happens. Draco’s hand slips slowly from his stomach to _thud_ against the couch. He lets out a sigh through his gritted teeth, and tries not to let the disappointment overwhelm him.

“It’s perfectly normal,” he says aloud, “To not have felt the baby yet. The healers said so. They know what they’re talking about.” Since Grimmauld Place is empty, there’s no one to answer him. There aren’t even any enchanted portraits in the sitting room to respond, and it only sours Draco’s mood further.

 _It’s perfectly normal_ , he tells himself again. He’s only a few weeks into his second trimester; the healers said movement can happen as late as approaching the third trimester, particularly for first pregnancies. There’s nothing _wrong_. Nothing to _worry_ about.

And yet, here Draco is. Worrying.

He drops his head back against the couch even though it’ll surely put a crick in his neck. Eyes closed and body shaking, he brings his hand to his stomach again. He slips under the loose-fitting silk of his shirt and presses his palm to the center of his belly, against his protruding belly button. He hates the look of it, isn’t especially fond of the stretch marks spreading over his stomach—but the firm warmth under his touch is worth it.

Just as the gentle kick is worth the fact he nearly pisses himself. Draco leaps off the couch and apparates quickly to the nearest bathroom, even though he knows he’s supposed to be avoiding strenuous forms of travel.

“It’s fifteen bloody feet,” he snaps to himself as he wrestles his loose-fitting drawers down and aims his prick at the toilet. He can just barely see the tip of his dick past his swollen belly, and normally it would annoy him to pieces, except…

“That was a kick,” he murmurs to himself. He shakes off his dick and tucks himself back into his drawers, and then steps up toward the mirror above the sink. He flushes the toilet with a wave of his hand and then lays that same hand on the top of his stomach.

“So undignified,” he says softly. He smiles to himself as he strokes the tender, soft skin. He traces the pinkish-purple stretch marks and taps his extended belly button with a mild grimace. Draco turns from side to side, examining himself in the mirror.

He turns to look at the full size of his gut sticking out, cups the bottom of it, and whispers, “Hello, little one.”

There’s already a lump in his throat, which is ridiculous. He’s heard his baby’s heartbeat, he’s seen the ultrasounds—both magical and muggle. There’s no reason standing alone in a bathroom, talking to the little life growing inside him should have him choked up.

And yet.

“Hello, little one.” He says it a bit louder this time. He puts both hands on his stomach and practically hugs his stomach. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Can you move for me, again? I’d love to feel you.” _Even if it means pissing myself,_ he adds mentally.

He’ll never know of course if his baby can actually hear him, but his baby absolutely kicks _hard_ right against his palm.

Draco gasps. “Oh!” He keeps his hands in the same place and startles when he gets kicked again. “That’s it!”

He finally stops touching his stomach to instead let himself out of his bathroom and hurry to the bedroom. He digs around for a pair of pants that still comfortably fit him—that means finding a pair of Harry’s joggers, which are wider in the waist but too short on Draco’s long legs—and switches to a shirt that doesn’t completely show off his swollen nipples and stretch marks. The shirt is also one of Harry’s, some old hand-me-down that’s design has long since been rubbed off. He catches a glimpse of himself in the body mirror tucked into a corner of his and Harry’s room, and sighs.

“You’re pregnant,” he tells his blushing reflection. “There’s no dignity when you’re pregnant.”

With that, he apparates yet again, this time straight to the Ministry.

Which, in retrospect, probably wasn’t his best idea. It’s not as if he wanted to land in the Aurors’ offices nearly on the verge of fainting. He’s just lucky Goldstein is nearby to catch him by the elbow, even if the other man is looking at him wildly.

“Where’s Potter?” Draco asks once the spots stop spinning in front of his eyes.

“Er,” Goldstein says. His voice sounds far away. “Did you want to sit down, Malfoy?”

“No, no, that’s alright. I just need to find Harry, thanks.”

Goldstein nods slowly. “You sit,” he insists, and Draco practically falls into a nearby seat. “I’ll go get him.”

Draco waves him away and rubs at his eyes. “Merlin’s beard, that…” He shakes his head as he trails off. His stomach isn’t roiling, at least, which is more than he can say for floo travel at this point. His head aches dully but the stars are subsiding and he can open his eyes without wincing in almost no time at all.

“Draco!?” Harry shouts.

“Bloody hell, keep your voice down,” Draco snaps, struggling to stand. Two heavy, calloused hands on his shoulders press him back into his seat. “Let me up!”

“You _apparated_ here?” Harry asks him. “You know that’s against the healer’s orders!”

“The baby kicked!” Draco counters, voice cracking in his excitement. “What else was I supposed to do? Send your infernal owl and hope it reached you before you were floo’ing home?”

Harry leans back. His emerald green eyes are wide behind his thick, square frames. _Surprise has always been a good look on him_ , Draco thinks with a faint grin. “What?” Harry whispers.

“The baby _kicked_.” Draco reaches out and plucks one of Harry’s hands off his shoulder to press it against his stomach instead. “Several times. Almost pissed myself right on the fucking sitting room couch.”

Harry laughs but he sounds dazed, like his thoughts are a million miles away. He’s looking at Draco’s swollen stomach like it holds the answers to the universe—which, Draco knows, it kind of does, for Harry. Harry’s hand shakes against his stomach, even when Draco lays his own over it.

“I swear, it kicked,” Draco murmurs.

“I don’t mind waiting.” Harry’s sunk to his knees now, situated between Draco’s legs. “S’just a paperwork sort of day.”

Draco smiles and he’s so thoroughly wrapped up in the stricken, delighted look on his lover’s face, he almost misses MacMillan’s inelegant cry of, “You’re up the duff!?”

Draco looks up and aims a glare at the fair-haired former-Hufflepuff. “Yes, MacMillan, I think that’s rather obvious.” He sneers. His expression falters when he realizes _all_ of the other Aurors around them, which is to say nearly the _entire fucking force_ , look just as shocked as MacMillan. “Harry,” Draco says lowly.

“Hm?”

“Did you… _not_ tell your coworkers that we were expecting?”

Harry blinks. “Huh?”

Draco sighs. “You told Weasley, didn’t you? I’m astounded he’s kept his mouth shut.”

“Kept my mouth shut about what?” Weasley says. Speak of the devil. “Bloody hell, what’s happened here?”

Draco sighs and knows if he looks at the redhead, he’ll see the same gobsmacked expression as the rest of the office. “You didn’t even tell your best mate that your boyfriend of several years is knocked up?”

Harry finally looks up and has the grace to seem sheepish. “I swore I mentioned it,” he says before shooting Weasley an imploring look. “Didn’t I?”

“You said he had a bun in the oven. I thought you just meant Malfoy was taking up baking.”

Draco groans. “How can you be _that_ daft? You’ve seen me in person, several times!”

Weasley shrugs. “Thought working from home had you putting on some pounds. Always thought you were too skinny as it is. ‘Sides, Hermione said it wasn’t polite to mention it.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Draco slaps a hand across his face. “Harry,” he whines. “Your best mate is an absolute moron.”

Harry’s still got a hand pressed to Draco’s stomach like a lifeline. “Ron, your mum knitted us a quilt. And some sweaters. And booties.”

“Mum is _always_ knitting stuff. It’s practically her default state when she’s not nagging one of us or cleaning the house.”

Harry shoots a grin at Draco. “He’s got a point.”

“You’re both the _absolute_ worst,” Draco says. He can’t deny he’s got a grin of his own, though.

“How far along?” Cho Chang pipes up from a few desks over. She’s got that look in her eyes that Draco has become quite familiar with: the look of someone ready to start a family, but hasn’t yet.

“Just shy of sixteen weeks,” Draco answers.

“Do you know the gender, yet?” Someone else, someone Draco can’t make out through the sea of people, asks.

“We’re keeping it a surprise,” Harry answers for him.

There’s murmurs and rising voices, waves of questions piling up and ready to cascade down on them—but before any can reach Draco, Weasley clears his throat.

“Why don’t you two take this into our office? For some privacy.” He holds out a hand to help Draco stand and Harry finally stands up, letting his hands drop from Draco’s stomach to loop an arm around his waist.

“I’m not an invalid,” Draco complains as they support him over to the large, glass office in one corner of the rest of the room. Harry, as Head Auror, has the nice little private space tucked aside—a space he shares with Weasley. As they step inside, Weasley murmurs a charm to change the glass to one way, so that no one can see inside.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes,” Weasley says with a surprising amount of tact. It’s hilariously undone when he adds, “You did mention it, by the way, mate. I’d have to be as thick as a whomping willow stump not to have noticed. Besides, you think Hermione hasn’t noticed?”

He slips out with a cheery wave, laughing when Draco flips him two fingers. The door shuts with a soft click, and Harry locks it with an unspoken spell after a moment.

“Haven’t felt anything yet?” Draco asks quietly.

“Not yet.” He helps Draco into the plush seat at the desk, and sinks to his knees again. “You sure—?”

“Your blasted child kicked me four times and nearly made me piss myself, Potter, _yes_ , I’m sure.”

Harry grins. “Brilliant,” he whispers. He slips both hands under Draco’s shirt to cup his stomach. He even goes so far as to press his forehead against it, breathing deeply. “Sorry for not telling the office. I guess… I just didn’t think about it.”

Draco combs his fingers through Harry’s unruly hair. “It’s fine. It isn’t as though it’s any of their business, anyway. Now if Ronald truly hadn’t known, that’d be a different story. He and I may not be _close_ , but the idea of him not knowing about this is absolutely ludicrous.”

Harry laughs against Draco’s stomach. It’s warm and gentle. “You know him, always gotta take the piss.”

Draco shakes his head. “Your friends, Potter. I swear.”

Harry kisses Draco’s stomach gently. “You love ‘em—!” He stops short and freezes.

“Harry?”

“I felt it!” Harry looks up at him with bright eyes and an even brighter, crooked smile. “I felt it!” He crows again, leaning in once more to press a kiss over the cotton fabric of Draco’s shirt. Underneath the tee, Harry’s hands start to roam, as if searching for another place the baby might kick.

“Careful,” Draco says. “Bladder.”

“Just hoping for one more,” Harry murmurs.

Draco grins. He keeps his rhythm of running his hands through Harry’s mop of black hair. “Well, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Harry smiles up at him. “Paperwork can wait,” he promises.

“Indeed,” Draco hums. “For the record,” he adds after a few moments of silence, filled only with Harry’s delighted gasps as the baby kicks and shifts. “I expect an array of gifts from your coworkers now that they do know.”

“So, you want to have a lavish, extravagant baby shower?”

Draco wrinkles his nose. “God, no. Just the gifts.”

Harry’s laughs again. “Alright, whatever you say.”

Draco melts into the chair, suddenly exhausted. Whether it’s the baby using his stomach like a soccer field or the strenuous apparating, it doesn’t really matter. Harry’s desk chair has always been distressingly comfortable and Draco sinks into it, lets his eyes flutter.

“Honestly,” he slurs, dimly aware of Harry still pressed close. “ _None_ of your coworkers knew.” He laughs. “What would you have done once the baby was born? Put up a picture at your desk and just let it be?”

“Probably,” Harry admits. He finally pulls away and holds out his hands. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

“No,” Draco retorts. “Far too comfortable. You’re stuck with me.”

“C’mon,” Harry starts again. He hooks his arms under Draco’s armpits and hauls him up easily, like Draco hasn’t gained an upsetting amount of weight since the pregnancy started. “We can do a few short apparition jumps, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Draco says around a yawn. He wraps an arm around Harry’s back and his lover wraps an arm around his waist again. Being on his feet wakes him up just enough to smile politely as they exit Harry’s office and field a few questions here and there. He accepts congratulations and handshakes and shoulder claps until they’re out of the Aurors’ offices and at the apparition points within the Ministry.

Draco lets Harry hold him tight and apparate him slowly but surely home. The smaller jumps are easier on Draco’s head, and by the time they’re in their Grimmauld Place bedroom, he doesn’t even feel woozy. Even so, Harry guides him to bed without even changing out of his clothes, and they slide under the covers together.

Harry sidles up behind Draco and immediately curls an arm around his stomach. “Thank you for showing up, today.”

“Of course,” Draco says before a yawn. “It wasn’t exactly something that could wait.”

“It could’ve,” Harry replies. “You weren’t in danger. The baby’s probably going to be kicking up a storm.”

Draco’s brow furrows. “Harry, _of course_ I came to see you. At first I thought I or the baby was in danger.” At Harry’s confused look, Draco simply mutters, _“pregnancy brain.”_

“And…” Harry prods when Draco doesn’t continue his first thought right away.

“Once I was reasonably sure we weren’t in danger, I just… I just knew. I had to share it with you. It’s _our_ baby. _Our_ pregnancy, you know.”

“I know.”

Draco leans back. “Should any other baby-related milestones happen while I’m lounging around at him, I’ll be sure to notify you of those, as well.”

“Just don’t apparate in, please,” Harry says before pressing a sweet kiss to the back of Draco’s neck.

Draco smirks. “No promises.”

 _“Draco,”_ Harry whines. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you rather like me.”

“I love you, prat,” Harry says, his grin like a brand against Draco’s skin.

Even though he knew it was coming—a standard response by now, between them—Draco’s heart still flutters happily. “Love you too, berk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy the HD Mpreg fest
> 
> Thanks!  
> Author and artist reveals are on June 16th.


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